


Waiting for Dawn

by orphan_account



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Play, BDSM, Biting, Bloodplay, Bondage, But Extremely Light Bloodplay, Crying, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, F/M, Finger Sucking, Healing, Love, Love Bites, Mouth Kink, Naked Cuddling, Oral Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 17:38:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16858402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Link and Mipha share a night together, safe in each other and in their mutual trust.Dom/sub play, with a dominant Link. Pure porn with no real plot but a heavy focus on the characters' relationship and feelings for each other.





	Waiting for Dawn

Mipha’s breath kept coming short, the soft rope tied so that it squeezed her diaphragm more insistently the harder she struggled. The pressure on her torso, the shallowness of her breathing, the pounding of her heart as heat bloomed in her face and in the pit of her stomach, all of these gave the world a hazy, dreamy quality. She was gasping, not for breath but because she felt that pressure for what it was: an embrace, a promise of safety and of place, of being able to surrender. They were gasps of pleasure, and she wanted to cover her mouth to stifle them but her arms were tied behind her back with the same rope that bound her chest, so that when she pulled against the bonds the pressure became tighter still.

She pulled, and then she quivered at the rope’s embrace.

She was … she could think of no word better than “presenting,” her face and chest pressed into the mattress while she lifted her hips into the air by putting her legs under her.

 _No, you could think of better words if you wanted to, but you_ like _that word, you like its implications, you like how it makes you sound as if you are being debased and—_

Link’s fingers brushed against her inner thigh and she moaned, his touch sending waves of feeling through her body, made more intense because her head was swimming and she was here and she was safe and she was _his_.

“Hush,” he said, not an admonishment but a command, and she bit down on the sounds that struggled their way up from inside of her, imagining them captive in her breast beneath the crossing of the ropes and oh that thought made it worse, made it burn inside of her, and she was not able to suppress a plaintive whimper. “Hush,” he repeated, and his touch was sweet fire on her skin.

“Please,” she said, disobeying him because the need was building inside of her, more forceful than a moan as his hand traced parallel rivers up her thighs. The space between his fingertips tingled in their passing, and her whole body was shaking and she wanted it to, was happy that he could see her need but that made it even worse. “ _Please_.”

He was seated in a chair next to the bed, naked and beautiful, his blue eyes taking in every detail of her, partially in hunger and partially in that special mix of caution and duty and love, the same love that made his other hand roam over her body, slipping fingers beneath ropes to check their slack, his touch so light and so subtle that she could not tell when he was checking but was still assured that it happened. He gave no sign of his own desires, save for his erection, and how it _throbbed_ when she whimpered at him, when she asked for his touch. Oh, she wanted him on the bed with her, to feel his skin pressed against hers, the _heat_ of him, but the only heat he gave her was from his hand.

The Zoran genital fold was almost invisible most of the time—it was only during sex that it became engorged, taking a shape she had learned looked more familiar to Hylians. He put his hand against her crotch, cupping her tenderly, pressed his palm firmly against her. He watched her face, and she his, as she slowly moved her hips back and forth, working the fold apart until his palm pressed firmly against softer, warmer, more sensitive skin.

He watched her, as if waiting for something. She pressed herself hard against his palm, _ground_ against it, and now his hand was slick and she could see the tension in his neck, the color rising in his face. She pressed against him again, firm, insistent, and the pressure of him was enough to rise to meet the heat in the pit of her stomach and the world was full of stars.

“ _Please, Link_ ,” and she moaned his name and he was defeated. He rose from his chair, stepping around the bed so that she had to turn her head to follow him, and then he was on the mattress on his hands and knees and he laid his cheek against her outer thigh. She couldn’t see his face, he kept moving to be out of her view, but then his tongue traced a path along her buttocks and she began to shake again, and she wasn’t sure she had the energy to wag her hips at him. “Please, you know what I want…”

“Ask for it.”

She breathed. Focused on that breathing. Her whole body felt suffused with heat, as if she would burst into flames and he would need to put her out, as if this feeling would come pouring out of her skin and drown them both.

“P-p-please, I… I can’t…”

“You can.” Two of his fingers rested against her, as if propping her open; one movement and they would be inside of her. “You will.”

She had never said this before; she’d never _had_ to. They’d always communicated with their bodies, with guiding hands and warm lips and insistent embraces; to use her words, to place these feelings and these needs outside of herself, was to make herself naked and exposed and vulnerable in ways she had never been before. Ways she had never even thought about. She couldn’t. She _couldn’t_.

But she looked back at him one more time and he was staring at her and she knew that he knew and that he wanted to hear it and _oh Hylia let that be enough_.

“I… I want you to… I want you to touch me.” She pressed her face into the mattress as if she could hide from him, hide her shame, letting the sheet muffle her words. “Th-there. With your… with your mouth.”

“Mm?” One finger danced around her, not in but not out, teasing her with the sensation of being entered but giving her no fulfillment, no _release_. With the other he tapped beside her clitoris.

“I want your tongue inside me! I-I want you to taste me, and _like_ it, and to feel your face against me, and—” and that is when he put his mouth to her inner labia and wormed his tongue inside of her while two of his fingers swiped an alternating staccato rhythm on either side of her clit. She went away for a little while, then.

Sinking down into herself, into the pressure on her chest and the ropes kissing her wrists and the heat of her thoughts and the warm safety of being with him, she was aware of him, and her, and of nothing else. His fingers and tongue massaging her outer labia, his fingers inside of her teasing at spots that made her helpless to do anything but squirm and mewl, the possibility of his teeth a fraction of an inch away from her, his lips as he took her clitoris between them and gently sucked to send lightning running from her ankles up to her eyes. There were moments where he pressed his mouth wholly against her and she felt the vibration of his moans more intensely than she felt her own breathing, where she thought in a haze how it would be to sit on his face and exalt in him as he was exalting in her, where he put his tongue to every part of her because he _loved_ every part of her and it was that knowledge and feeling, even more than physical sensation, that brought out the screams she could not smother. His response to her cries, his intensity, rolled through her like a wave, crashing against the rock of her consciousness, and if it kept going she would be swept away _and let me be swept away by him, this is everything,_ everything…

Then he drew his face away, and the thunder stopped echoing inside of her body, and it was all she could do not to collapse, to keep herself propped up on knees that wanted so desperately to come together and let her body fall to the mattress. Oh, it was hard to breathe, and that felt so sweet.

“I think that’s pretty good,” Link said, and his smile was warm, and then with a start she realized what he meant.

“Wait! Wait, that can’t be everything!” He was drawing away and then she _did_ let her hips fall to the mattress, pulling herself around to face him, lifting herself into a sitting position. “Y-you haven’t let me touch _you_ , yet!” He smiled at her and it was warm but it was also _teasing_ and she could see how hard he was, how his body cried out to be touched, and she wanted to give him that release, to feel him _writhe_ as she had writhed. “You can’t end it like that! That’s not fair!”

His smile quirked and it was no longer teasing; now he was watching her squirm just to watch it, and she felt the color rising in her face even before he spoke. “Can’t I?”

“You! O-of course you… of course you can. But… please? Please, let me touch you. I can use my mouth, like you did for me.” _I want to taste him and breathe in his smell and feel him throbbing against my tongue and if he makes me say those things out loud…_ “Please, Link—” That is when he grabbed her by the jaw, his fingers hooked under her chin and his thumb forcing her lips apart, pressing against her teeth.

She opened her mouth for him, quivering again. Oh, yes, _this_ she wanted, and—

And then he put the forefinger of his other hand between her teeth, laying it across her mouth like the bit in a horse’s bridle.

“Nnn?” She looked up at him as he let go of her jaw. She tried to speak, but her tongue hit his finger and she realized she wouldn’t be able to form words and later she’d need to revisit why _that_ excited her.

“Bite.”

“Nn.” Is that all it was, then—amongst other things, she _did_ like to bite him, loved the give of his skin, the high sounds he would make if she bit him in the right places (especially if he didn’t know it was coming). She was drooling, just from the pressure of her teeth against him, and that turned to a torrent as she closed her eyes and applied pressure with her jaw. A sound escaped her, but it was small—she could control this much.

“Harder.” A command.

“Nn?” Now she looked up at him again, because she did not understand.

“ _Harder_.” All the authority he’d ever leveled against her, in that sentence. “Keep increasing the pressure. I’ll tell you when to stop.” And the fire in his eyes was so intense, his surety, his _control_ , and she was afraid of hurting him, but… she trusted him, too.

So, she bit him. Her teeth were sharp, made for grabbing fish while they swam and holding them in place, and she was normally so ginger when she took any part of him in her mouth. Now she applied pressure, and she could feel it as her teeth worked, and the heat in the pit of her stomach was back… but she couldn’t bite him harder than this. She would hurt him.

Then he tapped her on the chin. Again. Insistent. Commanding.

More pressure. And more. And more, again, no longer letting herself care about how hard she was clamping down, having faith in him, in his awareness of himself and his limits and of _her_.

Then the give was sharper, and the taste of copper filled her mouth.

She let go and pulled her head back. “Oh! Link, your finger!” He held it up for her: there were four distinct puncture marks, and blood oozed from them in thick, lazy rivers. “You have to let me heal it, just untie me and—”

“Use your mouth,” he said.

She paused, realized what he had just said, realized what this had all been about. Oh, she couldn’t make eye contact now, she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to do so again, but… she _could_ nod.

She opened her mouth and he laid his finger on her tongue and she closed her lips around it. At first, she was unsure, but then she thought of him—of being with him, protected by him, held by him, of being so sure in him and in herself when she was with him—and she was filled with the cool, soothing light of her power. It cooled the inside of her mouth as she used her tongue, running it over his finger to suffuse it with the healing light. She cleaned him with her tongue, and his wounds closed, and he pressed her tongue down and she sucked at it, sucked at it because it was _him_ and she could feel the beating of his heart in his finger, sure and steady against her tongue and her lips.

Finally, he pulled it out and then held it up for both of them to see: his finger, slick with her saliva and without a single mark from her teeth. Seeing it closed, seeing him healed by her power… something inside of her began to swell, and it was harder to breathe, now, and she was nearing the end of her endurance.

“Shall we stop, now?” At his question she nodded, because she did not have the strength to continue.

He moved next to her, on the bed with her, and with sure and swift hands he addressed the knots binding her arms and her chest. The ropes slackened all at once, and she breathed in deep as the pressure fell away, and she hadn’t realized how hard it had been to breathe until the rush of oxygen hit her all at once. She moved her arms freely and felt her own skin, tracing the marks left by the rope, and she thought of how it had been to be bound by him and held by him and pleasured by him and it was as if the rope had been allowing her to process it all differently, and now that it was gone her body was relieved and she could feel everything, in its wholeness, all at once.

Link was next to her on the bed and she rolled over and clung to him like a ship in a storm and pressed her face against his chest as the tears flowed. He stroked her back and her head, running his fingers along her cranial fin, and she had never felt so complete as she did in that moment, crying into his chest because she didn’t know what else to do with the enormity of this feeling.

A long, long time later, he whispered: “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” Because she was; because he had taken care of her.

“Was… all of that all right? Were you comfortable?”

“It was good. I liked it. It was… a little scary. But it was all right, because you were there.”

“You did so well,” he said, still stroking her, and she moved even closer against him, pressing her body against his. “You’re so strong, to be able to do all of that at once.”

“Mm.” She accepted this praise, even glowed with it; she wanted to give some to him, but he was always uncomfortable receiving what he gave so freely. “You never… I mean, you never got to…”

“I’ll be all right,” he said, chuckling from his chest. “I can come whenever I want. I wanted tonight to be about you.”

“Being about me can include you too, you know. But… thank you. I think I needed that. Needed all of this.” She slapped him playfully on his chest, tweaking his nipple between her fingers, and he jumped in that way she liked. “Next time, though… I think I’d like you to put it inside of me. And… and maybe not tease me so much.”

He tilted his head to look down at her. “No?”

She meant to look at him to express the desire, but looking in his eyes made her remember how he had looked when he had been talking to her before, and… “Well. You can tease me. But… it was hard, talking to you. Saying the things you asked me to say.” _The feeling of his finger between my teeth, robbing me of my words_. “Maybe next time you could… make it so I can’t talk.”

“You want me to gag you?”

She hid her face against his chest again, relying on her brow to block his view of her. “Yes. We could pretend that you’re holding me captive. Or that I’m your… pet.” That would be nice; to pretend to struggle against him, or submit to him, to try to bargain or plead and not be understood.

“All right. Next time.”

They lay together, naked on the bed, quiet and comfortable, sure in the touch of each other’s bodies.

After another long time, she said, “Dawn is coming.”

“I know.” The pain in his voice, always the same pain. She wished she could bear it for him; his pain, the source of it, stung at her eyes again. “Can we just… wait for it? Together? Like this?”

“Of course. For as long as you want. I am here for you.”

He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled himself against her, and rested his head against the top of hers.

That is how they were when dawn came.

* * *

Link woke to the light of the sun peeking through his window. He did not shield his eyes from it; he had not tried to sleep in for a long time, now. He wasn’t sure if he was even capable of it, anymore.

He sat up in bed, stretched, rubbed at his chin. He needed a shave. Well, perhaps he would have breakfast first. He certainly had enough ingredients in the pantry. He dressed, donning the Hylian tunic that would keep him warm against winds that announced the shifting from autumn to winter, and then retrieved the Lightscale Trident from where it had been leaning against his headboard. Setting it on his back, he descended the staircase and went to the pantry.

Meat—good meat but not the tastiest grade, he’d have to go to Hebra for a hunt soon—and rice and salt and herbs would be enough to make a good start to the day. These he took in hand, and went to the door, thinking about the night before.

“I wonder what you would look like, now. Is that why I’m still as I was, when you visit me? Is it so I can be as I remember myself, as I was when we were last together?”

She did not answer him. She never did, while he was awake. Still, he listened. Just in case.

He stepped into the cool air of Hateno and went to make his breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> That's my ship in a nutshell, I guess: horny _and_ sad.
> 
> This is the first explicit work I've posted under this name. Please let me know what you think of it, and how I can improve for future pieces! And... if you have anything you'd like to see for Link and Mipha I'll take it under consideration. I love these two.


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